


sometimes all i think about (is you)

by venomondenim



Series: venom's parkner cinematic universe [10]
Category: Iron Man 3 (2013), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Big Brother Harley Keener, Brother/Brother Incest, Dirty Talk, Grinding, High School, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Subdrop, Summer Love, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomondenim/pseuds/venomondenim
Summary: Peter and Harley had always been close growing up -abnormally close, Peter knew. There were other sets of brothers that they went to school with, and none of them acted like them. There was teasing, sure. But, there had never been the fighting, or general disdain with them. Peter would do anything for Harley, and he was pretty sure that Harley would do anything for him.
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Series: venom's parkner cinematic universe [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053995
Comments: 12
Kudos: 106





	1. heat waves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parkner_keenker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkner_keenker/gifts).



> This fic was definitely, 100% inspired by Maia and the discord. Literally wouldn't exist without Maia's love and support (just like most of my Parkner fics). I love you, babe, and I hope you love this fic as well!
> 
> Underage because Harley's 18 and Peter's 16.
> 
> Will be posted in 3 parts. 
> 
> If you're 18+ and love Parkner, feel free to join the discord! discord.gg/8mAQjJXtxy

Harley had always had an edge to him that Peter didn’t. His grins were sharper, and he never let Peter get away with anything. The rock he listened to was harder, he had a sick fascination with horror movies, and floated on an aura of cool that Peter hadn’t been graced with. It had been like that for as long as Peter could remember. 

Peter wanted to bask in his older brother’s attention, but never knew what to do once he got it. 

The crux of it all began the summer before Harley’s senior year of high school. He had decided to work on a pet project. Harley had been into cars ever since him and Peter used to fight over _Hot Wheels_ when they shared a room. When Harley turned 13 he got his own room - and Peter got left behind. He hadn’t even realized how much Harley’s breathing on the other side of the room had helped him fall asleep every night until it was gone, and all that was left was the eerie quiet, and the ambient creaking of the floorboards in their house. 

Harley over the summer would work at a garage just a little ways away from their house. That summer, Harley had turned down the work and decided to build a 2005 Mustang from scratch. It was a bright, cherry apple red, and Peter had teased him for a good while about how Harley was gonna be cop bait if he ever drove that thing down the main highway. Harley had laughed, but insisted that it was going to be worth it. 

Peter’s bedroom window looked directly out onto their driveway, and Peter had never thought of it as a problem before. That was until every day, in the sweltering heat, Harley was out working on the car. Sometimes in a tank-top, that would cling to his skin from all the sweat, or other times, without a shirt at all. 

Peter and Harley had always been close growing up - _abnormally close_ , Peter knew. There were other sets of brothers that they went to school with, and none of them acted like them. There was teasing, sure. But, there had never been the fighting, or general disdain with them. Peter would do anything for Harley, and he was pretty sure that Harley would do anything for him. 

When Peter was 15, he had his first wet dream. 

He had woken up panting in the middle of the night, his release sticking to his skin, and dirtying his boxers. Peter had thrown his underwear into his laundry bin and changed, the whole time his brain held onto just who the dream had been about. It was crystal blue eyes that stared back at him, whispering words into the skin of his throat, as calloused fingers had wrapped around his wrists and held him down. 

Peter flopped down onto his bed and rolled so he was on his stomach. He shook his head and tried to will his thoughts away, heading them down a different direction. But all he could think of were those blue eyes, the ones he knew were right down the hall. His dick was getting hard again, but Peter wasn’t going to do that. A dream he couldn’t help, but that, no. _That_ would be too far. 

*

The only problem with that was, Peter’s subconscious never seemed to get the memo. 

It was like as soon as the flip had been switched in his brain, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about Harley. He watched him in the driveway, his muscles gleaming as he picked up different parts and tried to get them in place. Peter had trouble meeting his eyes at the dinner table, and slowly started avoiding him, making up excuses about having to go out with Ned, or MJ.

*

“So,” Harley drawled, throwing himself down on the couch right next to where Peter was curled up. He was reading one of the books on his summer reading list. He wanted to be prepared when school started back up in three weeks. 

Harley pouted when Peter ignored him, but barreled on. “So is MJ your girlfriend now?” 

Peter glanced up from his book so aggressive he nearly snapped his neck. “What?” 

Harley reached out and ruffled his hair. “C’mon. You guys have been hanging out all the time this summer. You can tell me. I won’t tell Mom and Dad. I am supposed to be the cool older brother, here.” 

Peter stared at him for a full minute before he ducked down to look at his book instead, to save him from saying or doing something stupid. “We’re not.” He said awkwardly. “It’s not - like that. We’re just friends.” 

“You should make a move,” Harley told him, then tilted his head knowingly. “Most people won’t know if you’re into them until you make a move. That’s not MJ exclusive.” 

Peter could feel his cheeks heating up. “Right.” He thumbed at a crease on one of the pages. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“That’s good, ‘cause I don’t dish out this advice for free.” Harley joked then grabbed Peter’s book from his hands. It was an old wrinkled copy of _The Great Gatsby,_ that looked older than Peter. The book was kind of boring so far, but Peter could only imagine all the questions their teacher would cook up that had to do with the blatant symbolism. 

“I remember when we read this,” Harley said before he tossed the book aside so it was really out of Peter’s reach. “Wait ‘til you guys get to _Native Son_ , now that was an interesting book.” 

“Ms. Laurens said we probably won’t read that book this year, because the school board didn’t like it.” Peter told him, then tried to calculate if it would be worth it to overpower him and get his book back. 

Harley grumbled. “That’s bullshit. God forbid we read about some wholesome murder once in a while.” 

Peter laughed, then. “Yeah well, you can tell them that.” 

“Maybe I will!” Harley crowed. “I’ll write them a letter that’ll knock their socks off, and they’ll have to add it back.”

“You can certainly try,” Peter encouraged. A silence fell over both of them, and Peter decided to try his luck. He lunged forward and attempted to grab the book away from Harley, using the element of surprise. But, Harley had always been one step ahead of him from the start. Harley ducked his leap with his elbow, easily, and pushed Peter backwards, still holding the book above his head so Peter couldn’t get to it. That move had Peter laid out on his back on the couch, with Harley straddling him, his eyes glinting. 

“Nice try, sweetheart,” Harley mocked, just as every bit of air left Peter’s lungs. Harley was on top of him, holding him down, and Peter couldn’t breathe. It was almost an exact mirror of his dream. Peter tried to wriggle away, but Harley only clenched his thighs tighter, and pinned his wrists down, holding him there. Peter was trapped. The thought of being held down and completely at Harley’s mercy had Peter immediately rock hard in his shorts. He panicked. He couldn’t have Harley feeling that. 

“Harley,” Peter spoke up, his voice coming out choked up due to his arousal and lack of air. “Get off.” 

At his request, Harley pulled back in an instant, like he had been burned. Peter scrambled so he was back in a sitting position and curled in on himself on the couch. His heart was hammering in his chest and he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Hey, Peter, are you okay?” Harley asked, his voice had dropped all of his teasing tone, and now just sounded concerned. Peter didn’t say anything, and absentmindedly started rubbing his wrist, where Harley had grabbed him and pinned him. “Pete, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His words were dripping with worry, so Peter shook his head, and let his hands fall. 

“I’m okay.” Peter said, even though he really felt shameful and dirty. “You didn’t-” _hurt me._ He cut himself off. Harley _had_ kind of hurt him, but he had liked it, and that was most of the problem. “Can I have my book back, please?” He asked in a small voice. 

Harley handed him his book. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” 

“It’s fine,” Peter stopped him. He got up from the couch then, on shaky legs, and pressed the book against his chest. “I’m just gonna...go do my reading in my room.” 

When Peter got back to his room he smacked his forehead a few times with his book. “Idiot,” he cursed himself. “You goddamn disgusting idiot!” He threw his book onto his nightstand for good measure and curled up under the covers of his bed. 

*

The next morning Peter noticed two purpling rings around both of his wrists. They featured imprints from Harley’s hands. Peter pressed down on them with his fingers as he rutted against his mattress. He thought about Harley holding him down again, and leaving even more bruises. At the image of Harley cowering over him, like he had that previous night, Peter came so hard that he saw stars. 

*

Peter spent most of the next week avoiding Harley. He had gotten pretty good at it. At night, he mostly stayed inside his room, and during the day he tried to hang out with Ned or MJ whenever he could. Eventually MJ got bored of him and kicked him out of her room. Peter thought that was rude considering, he argued ,that he wouldn’t be weirded out by her doing her face masks, or painting her nails, or whatever girly shit she wanted to do. She simply had glared at him and told him that his angst and testosterone were ruining the vibes of her room, then gave him the boot. 

Of course as soon as he got home he was caught by Harley, because _of course_. It seemed like he couldn’t get lucky, at least just once. “Hey!” Harley yelled, peaking his head out from the kitchen briefly, as soon as the front door had clicked closed. His hair flopped over his eyes for a second before he turned his back and went over to the refrigerator. 

Peter sighed, then joined him. He was pretty hungry after all. “I thought you were hanging out with MJ,” he said conversationally, not looking at Peter at all. 

“I was,” Peter pouted, “But then she kicked me out.” 

“Ouch,” Harley joked, then looked at him, from right above the second refrigerator door, and gave him a grin. “We should do something,” He said suddenly, then wiggled his eyebrows. “You know what tomorrow is.” 

Peter sniffed. “It’s the anniversary of the atomic bomb being dropped on Hiroshima, how could I forget.” 

Harley glared. “Fuck you! You little shit,” He teased, then slammed the door closed. He slinked over towards Peter again, and Peter’s eyes widened. He was terrified that Harley was gonna pin him against the counter and he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Just when he was really starting to panic, Harley stopped short. 

Peter furrowed his brows, and flicked his eyes down to see what Harley was staring at. His wrists, which weren’t covered by his thin t-shirt, showed the greenish-blue of the fading bruises. Peter’s mouth went dry. 

“What happened to your fucking wrists?”

“It’s okay. It didn’t even really hurt,” Peter tried to placate, but then he watched the horror settle over Harley’s features. 

“Are those from the other night?” Harley asked, stepping closer. He picked up Peter’s wrist gently, and rubbed his thumb over a part of the bruise. “Fuck, Pete. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Harley, really,” Peter whispered, because what was he supposed to say? _It’s okay, I liked it_ , probably wouldn’t go over well. 

“It’s not.” Harley disagreed firmly. “Do you wanna hit me? I’ll let you get a free punch in to settle the score.” 

Peter rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, effectively hiding his wrists. “I’m not gonna hit you. And I’m fine, I know you didn’t mean to like, bruise me. Let’s just drop it.” 

Harley glanced at where Peter’s wrists were for another beat, even though Peter wouldn’t let him see the healing bruises anymore. “Yeah, okay. So uh, Mom and Dad are leaving us on our own for dinner tonight. Did you wanna order some pizza?” 

Peter gave Harley a weak smile that he hoped was convincing. “Yeah, pizza sounds great.” 

*

Peter spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening locked in his room. He had gone out to the kitchen to get pizza after he heard it being delivered, but the whole time he was out of his room, Harley hadn’t been around. Peter ate his pizza in his room and tried to swallow down the anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach that told him he was ruining everything. He was weird, and a freak, and shouldn’t want his brother in the way that he did. But it wasn’t the fact that Harley was his brother that got him hot, it was just _him_. 

Later, once it was past midnight, Peter jumped as his door opened just a crack, startling him. Harley peaked through the door. He was in his leather jacket, even though it had to be at least eighty degrees outside, despite the sun being down. 

Harley gave Peter a sheepish grin. “Hey so-” 

Peter smiled. “Happy birthday.” 

Harley twiddled with his fingers, appearing nervous in the doorway. “I got the Mustang running yesterday.” 

Peter’s eyes widened and he made an excited noise. “Oh no way! That’s awesome!” 

Harley pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his index finger, while his grin turned devilish. “You wanna go for a ride?” 

Peter was pretty sure his brain grinded to a halt at those words. For a second, just a second, Peter wondered if Harley knew, and if he was teasing him. Peter quickly brushed that thought away. He looked down at his pajama pants, then back at Harley. “Let me just...change first?” 

“I’ll meet you in the car,” Harley called out before shutting Peter’s bedroom door behind him.

As soon as the door was closed Peter shucked off his pants and pulled on a pair of gym shorts. He didn’t bother with changing his shirt. It was a bright blue one he had gotten from Academic Decathlon a year previous, but it was already starting to turn snug, and pinched around the shoulders. 

Once Peter was fully clothed, he grabbed his phone from off his bed and darted out of his bedroom and down the hallway. He made sure to lock the front door behind him, and watched as Harley beamed at him from the driver seat of the Mustang. It was a beauty, now that it was all fixed up and shiny. Peter climbed into the passenger seat, all elbows and gangly limbs until he settled and matched Harley with a beam of his own. 

“You pick the CD,” Harley instructed as he started the engine and shifted the gear into reverse. Peter leaned forward to pop open the glove box, which was filled with tapes. It was too tedious and expensive for Harley to hook up a brand new radio, so he had started making CDs to play since the CD player was still intact. 

Peter mulled over his choices for just a second before he picked the one on top. He went to go put it in the CD slot but froze at Harley’s next movement. Harley threw his arm up around the back of Peter’s seat, effectively caging him in, and looked through the back window as he reversed them out of the driveway. Peter shivered. Harley’s arm wasn’t around _him_ , or even touching him in anyway, but it still was _close enough_. 

Harley pulled out onto the street. “You gonna put that CD in or just play with it,” Harley teased as they started heading out of the neighborhood. That brought Peter out of his stupor, and he glanced down at the CD still trapped between his fingers. 

“Right.” Peter muttered under his breath, and slipped the CD in. His ears turned pink as he realized that Harley had been watching him the entire time. “Eyes on the road,” he meant to snap back, but it came out more like a soft command, and Harley smirked at him once he fixed his attention back onto the road. 

*

They spent most of the night and into the early morning driving around. They listened to the whole CD, even as it replayed and Peter replaced it with another one. At one point Peter stuck his head out the window as they screamed along to “The Killing Moon,” until his voice was threatening to go hoarse and his stomach hurt from giggling so much. 

Eventually the Mustang threatened to run out of gas and they stopped at a gas station that was only a few miles away from their neighborhood. Harley pulled out his ID excitedly, and Peter stayed in the car as he went into the cornershop. When he came out he brandished a pack of cigarettes and a handful of scratch-offs. Harley threw the pack onto his dash, and then him and Peter wrestled over the scratch-offs, which led to Harley holding them over Peter’s head laughing, while Peter yelled at him indignantly. The whole time though, he was holding back a delighted grin. Peter leaned onto his shoulder as Harley found a penny and started scrubbing off the gray film. 

“If we win you gotta buy me something,” Peter had joked, even though every slot so far had come up empty. 

“In your dreams, princess,” Harley snorted, and Peter had to refrain from biting his lip at the nickname. 

They scratched a few more off in silence, until they got to the last box. Harley scratched it off and immediately it looked different than the rest of the boxes. Once they had rubbed off all of the artificial film the box proudly proclaimed, “$2”, which was the amount they had won. Peter started laughing, and muffled it into Harley’s shoulder until Harley was laughing right along with him. 

“Are you gonna collect your loot?” Peter asked, nudging Harley towards the door. 

“They just about paid for themselves,” Harley retorted with a shake of his head, but climbed out of the car anyway. “I’ll be back,” He told Peter right before he shut the door. 

Peter didn’t watch him go in, or collect his $2, he was too focused on picking out their next CD for the drive home. It was a little past 3 and Peter was just starting to feel the tiredness hit him. He had just put in the CD he had been looking for when he heard the door open and Harley slid inside. 

Before Peter could do much of anything Harley handed him a red Slushee. It was his favorite. Peter stared at him with big, wide eyes, as Harley pointedly didn’t look at him, and placed his wallet to the side of the center console. 

“What?” Harley said after a moment, shifting the car into gear and still not making eye contact. “You said you were thirsty earlier.” 

Peter nodded, and started sucking up the Slushee with the straw. It was still thick, and hadn’t melted much yet, but it was still a rush of sugary sweetness on his tongue. By the time they got home Peter’s fingers were nearly frozen, and his lips and tongue were about the same shade of red as the Mustang. 

(And if later that night, once Harley and Peter both went back to their respective bedrooms, if Peter stuck his still cold hands down his pants and thought about Harley’s tongue...About how it would taste, and if Harley would be able to taste the Slushee on Peter’s own tongue. Or if Peter could make Harley’s lips just as red from biting them, or licking the Slushee ice off of his skin - well, that was Peter’s business, and nobody’s else’s.)

*

The next morning was just like every birthday. Peter stumbled into the kitchen, still tired and bleary from the lack of sleep due to being out so late that night. Harley didn’t look much better, slumped at the kitchen table. Their Dad had already left for work, but their Mom was trying to fit 18 candles onto a single stack of pancakes that probably wasn’t going to end well. They eventually got them all lit and blown out with an impressive feat of teamwork. Peter couldn’t help smiling about it, and hid giggles behind his hand when Harley had whispered to him that the pancakes tasted like wax when their Mom had her back turned. 

Peter slid an unharmed pancake over from his plate onto Harley’s without making a big deal about it. Harley smiled at him, gratefully, and brushed his fingers over his arm. It was hardly anything, but it was enough to make goosebumps raise along the skin of Peter’s arm. Sometimes Harley was like looking directly at a supernova, and even though Peter knew his retinas would burn up, he still couldn’t get his eyes to look away. 

As soon as breakfast was over Harley changed into a t-shirt and jeans, then pulled the keys to his Mustang off the key-hook in the hallway. Peter watched him. Harley sent a few texts on his phone, then waved at Peter. “I’m gonna go hang out with some friends, I’ll be back late.” He threw over his shoulder flippantly before he walked out the front door. 

“Oh.” Peter breathed after the door whooshed shut. “Okay.” 

He tried to swallow back the disappointment. It was Harley’s 18th birthday, of course he wouldn’t want to spend it with his lame younger brother. He wanted to spend the day with his friends, who were all going to be seniors, and were infinitely cooler than Peter was. Besides, Harley had spent the whole night with him, when it was the _real_ start of his birthday, so Peter shouldn’t complain. Even if he was aware that he would spend every waking moment with Harley if he could. But that was kind of pathetic. 

*

When Peter was little, he used to get really bad nightmares. He’d have dreams where someone snuck into his bedroom in the middle of the night, pressed a gag over his mouth so he couldn’t scream, and they’d haul him away. Other times, he would dream about being cut open, and left on an operating table, the surgeon’s faces all blurry. His parents had sent him to therapy over it, and there was nothing in his life that should have been triggering for night terrors. He had never been abused - his parents never even let him watch anything graphic at an early age. 

Before they moved and separated bedrooms, whenever Peter would wake up in the middle of the night, panting in fear, and drenched in sweat. He would stumble over to Harley’s bed and curl up with him. He’d shake, and tremble, but Harley’s reaction was always the same. He would pull Peter in close, wrapping his arms around him, so Peter was fully encased. He would do it even if he was still asleep. Peter hated his nightmares with viciousness, but some nights they were worth it if it meant he got to be surrounded by Harley’s warmth.

Peter also remembered distinctly how in the mornings, whenever their Mom would find them, her lips would press into a thin line. She never breathed a word about it, but Peter could feel how she disapproved. That was probably one of the reasons why their parents were so keen to get Harley his own bedroom, even though Peter loved how easily he doled out affection, and never made him feel bad for wanting it. 

*

Once evening hit and the sun threatened to go down, turning all the windows in the house into a soft yellowy glow, Peter fell asleep on his bed. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and he hadn’t even gotten under the covers. The warm sappiness of the late summer air however, caused him to drift into an uneasy sleep. 

He woke up an undetermined amount of time later with a shout, his heart pounding, and breath stuttering in his chest. He wiped at the tears prickling the corner of his eyes and dug the heel of his palm into his forehead and eyes until black spots covered his vision. His latest dream wasn’t anything new, but it was still horrible, and realistic every time. His entire body was shaking and he couldn’t get it to stop. Blindly, without giving it much thought, Peter found himself dashing over to Harley’s room, limbs wobbly. 

Harley never locked his door, and it was a relief. As soon as Peter stepped inside it was like a wave of calm overtook him. Harley’s room was decorated completely different to Peter’s. Where Peter had white walls, a bright periodic table poster, and pictures of him and Harley interspersed with pictures of him, MJ and Ned - Harley had dark walls, cool colors, and band posters littering nearly every surface. 

Peter shuffled over until he let himself droop down onto Harley’s unmade bed. The duvet was up too high, and the sheets were crumpled up near the foot of the bed. (Because Harley had a bad habit of kicking them off when he got too hot in his sleep, Peter knew.) None of that mattered to Peter as he sunk down and wrapped himself in all the layers he could manage. Regardless of how old he was, Peter knew he would always find sanctuary in Harley’s bed, whether his older brother was in it, or not. 

Peter hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep again until someone was shaking him awake. He blinked a few times until he recognized the face peering down at him. “Harley?” He croaked out, his tongue feeling cottony in his mouth. 

Harley sat down on the bed, next to Peter’s hunched form. “What are you doing in my room?” He asked, not unkindly.

Peter shrugged, even though he was mostly obscured by the giant navy blue duvet. “Had a nightmare,” He mumbled after a moment, embarrassed. 

Harley’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “Have you been having nightmares again, Pete?” 

Peter bit his lip and shrugged again. “Not really. Just...sometimes.” Harley pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything. “So how was your birthday?” Peter asked, wanting to change the subject. 

Now it was Harley’s turn to shrug. “It was okay. Elliot and Jules started fighting again, so that was annoying.” 

Peter frowned. “I’m sorry. That sucks.” 

“It’s fine,” Harley brushed him off. “Hey,” he said, bringing a hand down to Peter’s knee over the covers. “You wanna watch a movie?” 

Peter smiled at him, slow and sweet. “Only if it’s _Donnie Darko_.” 

Harley’s matching smile was nearly blinding. “Wouldn’t dream of suggesting anything else.” 

*

That was how they ended up in Harley’s bed, watching _Donnie Darko_ on his laptop with the volume turned down low. It hardly mattered - they both could practically quote the entire movie from how many times they had watched it together. It was technically Harley’s favorite movie, but Peter had watched it about the same amount of times that he had, and he had a soft spot for anything that Harley liked. 

Peter rested his head on Harley’s chest, and tried not to think too hard about the position they were in. He could feel Harley’s thigh pressed against his own, and every one of his breaths that he exhaled made Peter’s curls woosh and tickle his ear. Peter had never felt more at home. In the movie, Donnie asked Gretchen to go steady with him and Peter snorted, just like he did every time. He would never say it, but he always thought it was romantic how they had found each other, and how nice it was to find someone who would believe you, even if you seemed crazy. 

“It was the kidnapping dream again.” Peter said suddenly, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere they had. It helped that he wasn’t looking at Harley. “Where they tie me up and throw me into a car. I can’t make any noise, even when I try to scream, and I can’t - move.” 

Harley’s hand brushed over Peter’s mop of curls. “They’re just dreams. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.” 

“You weren’t here,” Peter heard himself say before he could stop himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as his face flamed. 

“Peter-” 

“Fuck. No.” Peter shook his head against Harley’s chest. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. It’s your birthday, I’m glad you went out with friends.” He twisted his hand so it was gripping the bottom of Harley’s t-shirt. It rid up and revealed a slither of skin, and the knob of his one hip bone. “Ugh. I’m sorry I’m ruining your birthday.” 

“Hey,” Harley chided softly, and Peter moved to press his face into his neck.“You’re not ruining anything.” He gestured towards his laptop with his one free hand. “The best parts of my birthday so far have been when I was with you.” 

Peter nearly felt his heart beat out of his chest, and melted at his words. “Really?” Peter asked, entirely too hopeful.

“Really, really.” Harley confirmed, and kissed the top of his head. He started playing the movie again, but Peter couldn’t get his words out of his mind. 

Peter pulled back just a few inches to look at his face. The bedroom was dark, but the light from the laptop illuminated half of his face in an inhuman glow. He was so beautiful, and Peter _ached_. 

He also thought back to what Harley had said a few days previous. _“You should make a move,”_ Harley’s voice echoed in his head on a loop. _“Most people won’t know you’re into them until you make a move.”_ His words encouraged him. Peter had never felt safer than in Harley’s arms. It had been like that ever since he was born. Harley was his brother, best friend, and sole protector all wrapped up into one and Peter _wanted him_. 

He didn’t even think about the consequences of what he was doing. He stared up at Harley, until Harley looked down at him - and that’s when he made his move. 

Peter kissed him. 

Peter tilted his head back and slotted their lips together before he could talk himself out of it. He kissed him until it dawned on him that Harley wasn’t kissing him back. Peter broke away, and watched Harley in horror. The younger boy scrambled back, and he nearly brained himself when his foot got caught on the duvet and he tumbled onto the ground with a loud ‘thump’. 

“Peter-” Harley breathed once Peter stood up. But Peter was too mortified to face him. He was pretty sure his entire body was shaking. 

“I’m gonna go back to my room.” Peter choked out, and nearly flew out of the bedroom, and down the hallway.

He didn’t let himself cry until he got back to his own room and shut the door. 


	2. the other side of paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! back with another chapter. i hope you enjoy. things are gonna be porny from now on :)))

/ / /

When Harley thought about his life he was certain that he hadn’t come out quite right. There was something twisted inside of him, something that was wicked, and beyond his control. His only grounding point was Peter, and had always been Peter. Peter was good, without having to try. He was softer, kinder, and better than Harley in nearly every way. 

Harley took his role of big brother extremely seriously. It was his mission to protect Peter at all cost...even if the person he had to protect him from was himself. 

*

Harley and Peter had always been affectionate growing up. They would curl up next to each other whenever they watched movies together. Peter would lay his head against Harley’s chest, thumb in his mouth, until he outgrew that - but the touching stayed. 

When Harley got old enough to realize how wrong he was, and how wrong he _felt_ , he tried to stay away. But then Peter would get a nightmare, and crawl into his bed, or would smile so hopefully and endearingly whenever Harley caved and pulled him close. If Harley was a better person, he would tell him to stop. But, he never could. 

Then Harley did the unthinkable: He had _hurt_ Peter. 

He hadn’t even meant to. It had just been playful teasing, like when they were kids. Harley hadn’t even realized that he was being rough until Peter had blinked up at him, fear in his wide eyes, and told him to get off. Harley had pulled back, and watched as Peter scrambled away from him, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. Harley had thought that he felt sick then, but that was before he saw the bruises. 

The purple and green mottled rings around the skin looked misplaced on Peter’s dainty wrists. It served as a reminder that Harley had gone too far, and that he had hurt him. So Harley had backed away.

(The worst part was that he had gone back to his room afterwards and jerked off to the thought of leaving other bruises, in different places. But, he had never claimed to be a good person.)

He had tried to keep his distance, but then midnight had approached, and it was his birthday. He had never been good at holding himself back, especially when Peter was concerned. 

And then Peter had done the one thing that was out of Harley’s scope. He had kissed him. His lips had been feather light, and Harley had barely seen it coming in the dark, but the fact of the matter stayed, he had kissed him. He had kissed him, and then he ran away. It took a couple seconds for it to dawn on him, when it did, he tore after him, down the hallway. He heard Peter’s bedroom door shut, and was mindful enough not to make so much noise as to wake their parents. 

When Harley got to his door, he twisted the door handle, and sure enough, it wasn’t locked. He opened it up and stepped inside. “Peter? Hey, it’s-” He stopped short. “Are you crying?” 

Peter glared at him through tears and seemed to curl in on himself. His cheeks were flushed, and he was crying. Harley couldn’t stand it. “Go away,” he said pitifully before he sniffled. When Harley only inched closer he seemed to crack. “I’m sorry,” his voice trembled around the word. “I’m so _sorry_.” 

Harley kneeled down so he could be closer to Peter, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. He lifted his hand up to cup his cheek. Peter blinked at him with such wide shiny eyes, that were so hopeful, he knew he had the power to shatter him if he made the wrong move. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Harley told him softly. Then, “C’mere,” he said just as softly, but with a hint of command in his tone. Peter went so willingly, and fell into Harley’s embrace like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

The few moments of Peter melting were only a brief reprieve. After a few seconds of Harley holding him, Harley climbed into the bed with him to get a better angle. Almost as soon as Harley had wrapped him up, and Peter took his usual place, face pressed into his neck, he started to cry again. 

“I’m fucked up,” Peter hiccuped miserably.

Harley tightened his arms around him. “No you’re not.” He said harshly, leaving no room for argument. “You’re Perfect Peter.” He tried to joke, but failed when Peter just started to cry harder. 

“You don’t get it, I-” Peter started to say, but then he cut himself off. 

“Don’t get what, honey? Talk to me.” He felt Peter shudder. 

“I love you,” Peter confessed, then hid his face into Harley’s chest so he couldn’t look at him. All the breath knocked out of Harley’s lungs at his admission. 

“Look at me, baby,” Harley coaxed genty, wanting Peter to meet his eyes. He ran his one hand up and down Peter’s back until he eventually peered up at him, his eyes red and wet. “I love you too.” Harley told him.

Peter shook his head. “But I-” he ducked his head then, like he was going to hide again, and Harley wasn’t having that.

“Nuh uh, baby. Keep looking at me.” 

Peter’s whole face turned scarlet as he whispered, “I like it when you hurt me.” 

“Hurt you how?” Harley inquired, even though he could feel his heart pounding. 

“Not all the time,” Peter amended. “Just...sometimes I- I like it.” 

“That’s okay, baby,” Harley was quick to reassure. It wasn’t right that Peter was suffering and thought he was a freak. Harley bit his lip, and decided it was time for a confession of his own. “Sometimes I like to hurt you, baby. And I wanna leave bruises. Does that make me a freak?” 

“No!” Peter said, and he looked so hopeful. “I...I want that.” 

“Yeah?” Harley breathed. “You want me to mark you up? Leave bruises all over all this pretty skin?” 

“Harley,” Peter whined, but it didn’t sound like he was crying anymore. 

“Can I kiss you?” Harley asked, and slipped his hand under Peter’s t-shirt so he could rub over the skin on Peter’s back. 

Peter nodded, then peered at Harley through his lashes. Harley titled his chin up with his hand and leaned forward to kiss him. He kissed him until Peter mewled again his mouth, which only gave Harley more access to deepen the kiss. He pulled back eventually to see Peter’s half-lidded eyes.

“How could I not love you?” Harley whispered, deeply honest, as Peter pressed into his chest. 

“I love you so much,” Peter choked out. “I need you, Harley.” 

“You’ve got me, angel,” Harley said, meaning every word. “You’ve got me.”

He kissed the top of Peter’s head, then down to his forehead, and left one by his ear. He kept pressing kisses into Peter’s hair until he settled down and relaxed against him completely. 

“You got me?” Peter asked, like Harley had hung all the moons and stars in the sky. Like Harley was the most important person in existence. 

Harley held on, “Yeah, I got you.”

He counted Peter’s breaths until they fell asleep. 

*

When Harley opened his eyes the next morning it was to little hitched gasps right in his ear. He processed the warm body on top of him as Peter. Harley brought a hand up to tangle into Peter’s hair, and when he did, Peter moaned. It was quiet, but unmistakable. Harley moved his hands down to grasp around Peter’s hips, which were twitching against him. 

Harley hummed and started guiding Peter’s hips into more of a grind. “You need to get off, baby?” He asked, his voice rough.

Peter nodded frantically, and breathed out puffs of shaky air against him. “I want-” Peter said, his voice high-pitched and needy. He was grinding in earnest now. 

“You want more?” Harley crooned, tightening his grip on Peter’s hips so he controlled the rhythm, and Peter whined. “I know you do, baby, but you gotta tell me what you want.” 

“I want you all over me,” Peter eventually said. And okay. Harley could work with that.

Harley flipped them so he was on top. He settled his knees on either side of Peter’s waist, and caged him in by resting an elbow on each side of Peter’s head. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He ran his hands down Peter’s torso and over his stomach. He could easily make out the tent in Peter’s boxers. It was making him crazy to think about. Harley licked his lips. “Can I touch you?” 

Peter’s eyes were nearly black. “Yeah. Yeah, Harls. Please, fuck-” Peter keened as he jerked his hips up to try to get some friction. 

Harley slipped a hand under his boxers, and cupped around Peter’s length. He was already wet, and messy, and Harley knew it wouldn’t take long for him to finish. He started jacking him slowly, and leaned down to mouth at his neck. “You look so good like this,” Harley said into the skin of his neck while Peter moaned, and his cock twitched in his hand. “You gonna come for me, baby? I wanna see it. I wanna see you.” At that, Peter made a wounded sound in the back of his throat and came, gasping for air afterwards with ragged breaths. 

Harley kept pressing kisses against the hollow of his throat until Peter stopped trembling, and he retracted his hand. He went to go wipe it on the sheets, but Peter stopped him. He grabbed him by the wrist and brought his hand up to his mouth. Harley groaned when Peter started licking his own cum off of his hand. He licked it clean, and then placed a kiss to each one of his knuckles before he dropped his hand, bashfully.

Harley shoved his face into his neck and started nipping at the skin there. “You’re so fucking hot, baby. You have no idea.” 

“Can I touch _you_?” Peter asked, an echo of Harley’s words earlier, except he was trying to sound a lot more demure, and innocent. “I wanna make you feel good, Harls.” 

“You don’t have to,” Harley found himself saying, even though he was hard as a rock in his boxers.

“I want to,” Peter insisted, then he gave Harley the big brown doe eyes that killed him every time. “Please, Harley?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Harley said, and kissed his cheek. “Think you can jerk me off, honey?” 

Peter wasted no time getting his hand under Harley’s boxers. As soon as Peter’s hand wrapped around his cock and started jerking it, Harley groaned. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, and let himself fall down to just one elbow. He rested his forehead against Peter’s collarbone. “God, yeah, just like that, babydoll. You’re perfect.” 

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” Peter admitted, keeping a steady rhythm on Harley’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Harley bit out, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Peter kept going. “When I used to crawl into your bed after my nightmares I’d imagine grinding against you just like that. And if-” Peter’s breath hitched. “If I was quiet enough maybe you wouldn’t wake up, and you wouldn’t know.” 

“I’m gonna come,” Harley told him, already feeling it build in the pit of his stomach.

“Come for me, please?” Peter begged prettily, jerking him faster. “I wanna see it. I wanna see you come, Harley, please?” 

Harley wasn’t sure what exactly threw him over the edge, but he came with a cry a second later, and bit into Peter’s shoulder to muffle the sound. Peter grabbed onto his hair with his free hand, and held him there, keening, as soon as Harley had bit down. When Harley finally pulled away Peter’s eyes were glassy, and he had teeth marks in his shoulder that would probably bruise.

“You okay?” Harley pressed, even though he was still panting and coming down from his orgasm. 

Peter’s smile was serene. “I’m great,” he said, and then wrinkled his nose when he brought his hand up, the one that had Harley’s cum all over it. 

“My turn,” Harley said, smirking, and he made sure to keep direct eye contact with Peter as he licked it all off his hand, and kissed each knuckle like he had done with Harley. “There,” Harley said, his voice nothing but a rumble as he let Peter’s hand fall back into place. “Now you know how fucking crazy you drive me.” 

“Yeah?” Peter asked, like it was a question. Like how Harley felt about him could ever be uncertain. 

“Yeah,” Harley confirmed, and then kissed him on the mouth. His lips were too inviting to do anything else. 

/ / /

For the rest of the day, Peter and Harley had to keep their hands off each other and act like nothing had changed, even if it was a special kind of torture. They met eyes at the kitchen table, and Harley had brushed past Peter while he sat on the couch, his knuckles grazing over Peter’s shoulder, not enough to be noticeable, but enough to feel like a promise. 

Now that Peter knew Harley wanted him, he couldn’t deny how much _he_ wanted _him_. He wanted to feel Harley press down on top of him again. He wanted to touch, and he wanted to be owned. It was freeing, almost, to know that Harley would catch him.

Somehow, they made it through the day. Peter waited up in his room, while their parents went off to bed. He was so keyed up that he nearly flinched when he heard his door opening. Harley shuffled in quietly, and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He paused, just for a second, probably listening to make sure the house was still, and undisturbed. Once he was satisfied, he looked over his shoulder at Peter. Peter couldn’t help the wide grin that overtook his face. 

Harley didn’t waste any time, and crawled on top of him on the bed. Peter arched, and stretched, moving his hands above his head on instinct. Harley was only a few inches away now. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Harley rasped, his eyes trained on Peter’s mouth. 

“Me too,” Peter said, leaning up. He didn’t take the first plunge, but he wanted it to be clear that he was giving permission. 

Harley must have gotten the memo, because he reared Peter in by the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him. He opened up his mouth and kissed him like he wanted to eat him alive. Peter moaned, bringing his hands up to tangle into Harley’s hair. 

When Harley broke away, Peter’s heart was pounding. He leaped. “I want you to fuck me,” He blurted out, before biting his lip. 

He felt Harley shudder. “Yeah?” He said, pressing kisses all over Peter’s collarbone. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” 

Peter nodded. “I’ve never-” He averted his gaze. “But I want to. With you. I really want to.” 

“Okay,” Harley muttered, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself. “Okay, yeah. We can do that.” Then he sighed. “I don’t have anything, though.” 

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, wrinkling his nose.

Harley laughed. “We need condoms and lube, babydoll.” 

Peter blushed. “Oh. Right.” He gnawed on his lip until it was red and swollen, and Harley watched him the entire time. “I mean, we just _really_ need lube, right?”

“Sure,” Harley agreed easily, “But I still don’t have any.” 

“Don’t people use lotion or something sometimes?”

Harley shook his head. “It doesn’t work the same. And I don’t want to hurt you.” Peter opened his mouth to say something, but Harley cut him off. “Not like that. I’m not hurting you like that.” 

Peter deflated. “It’s okay, lotion sounds sticky.” 

Harley snorted. “Lube’s sticky too, it’s just a different kind of sticky.” 

Peter groaned. “You’re making this sound so appealing.” He said dryly.

Harley snorted on a laugh. “I’m just being honest.” 

Peter ran one of his fingers up Harley’s side, and over his chest. “...You could go to the store, maybe?”

“The things you make me do,” Harley said, pretending to sound put-out. “But yeah, I can,” He said, and then slid off of Peter. Peter already missed his warmth. 

He started hunting for shoes while Peter sat up on his elbows. “You know, I could come with you. We could...we could do it in your car.” 

Harley shook his head, then looked back at Peter. “Nah, baby. We ain’t having your first time be in a car.” He came over and gave Peter a kiss that was filled with want. “You’re gonna stay right here, looking all pretty, and when I come back I’m gonna lay you out, and take my time with you. Okay?”

Peter smiled up at him, and pulled him into another kiss. “Okay.”

*

If Peter had thought earlier that day had been torture, nothing was like the hour it took Harley to go out to the store and come back. The whole time Peter was nervous. He chewed on a hangnail on his thumb until it was raw, and threatened to bleed. He debated taking a shower, but decided against it. He was about ready to crawl out of his skin once he heard the sound of Harley’s car in the driveway.

He only had to wait a couple minutes then, until Harley was back. 

When Harley came back into his room this time he had a bag in his hands. That’s when it sunk in for Peter that they were really doing this. 

“I got condoms too, just in case,” Harley said sheepishly, and came towards him. 

Peter nearly tackled him. “I can’t believe you actually went to the store.” He said, a giant smile on his face. Peter kissed him. He couldn’t _not_. “You took forever.” 

“You’re just impatient,” Harley teased, but his smile was just as bright. Peter could see all his teeth, even the pointy fang ones. Peter wanted them to bite into his throat. 

“Whatever,” Peter dismissed, and started tugging at the bottom of Harley’s shirt. “Off.” 

“Demanding! So, demanding,” Harley faux-scolded, but Peter was rewarded by him reaching behind his neck and tugging off his shirt. “Your turn,” Harley said, with a glimmer in his eye. He helped Peter shuck off his own shirt until they were both bare. Harley still had his jeans on, but Peter was down to just his boxers. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harely told him before he started sucking a mark right into his clavicle. “You’re all mine, aren’t ya?” 

Peter nodded, already rolling his hips. “I’m yours, Harley, please.” 

“Well, when you ask so nicely,” Harley said darkly, but then he pulled back and started working on his jeans. He got them off with a couple fluid motions, and then he was back. This time when he crawled on top of him they were pressed together, skin to skin. 

Harley brought a hand to his thigh, and opened them. Peter had to fight every instinct telling him to cover himself and hide. “Have you ever fingered yourself before?” Harley asked. Peter could feel his face burning bright red. He turned his head so it crammed into his pillow. “Hey now,” Harley commanded. “Don’t go all shy on me.” He kissed a spot on Peter’s leg, right by his knee. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Harls,” Peter breathed out. 

“That’s good, baby,” Harley said, then kissed a spot a little higher up. “Thank you for telling me.” Harley reached for the bag which had been discarded by the bed. He got out the bottle of lube, and sat it down next to them on the sheets. 

“Are you gonna finger me?” Peter asked, feeling his blush spread down to his chest. Harley ran his hands up and down his thighs, and Peter melted into his touch. 

“I’m gonna get you nice and open for me,” Harley soothed. “We can stop anytime you want.” 

Peter shook his head. “I want you.” 

Harley smiled. “I know you do. ‘Cause you’re perfect, baby.” He trailed his hands down until they were right against the waistband of Peter’s boxers. “Can I take your underwear off, angel?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, but reached out to touch him. “But yours go, too.” 

“I think that can be arranged.” Harley replied slyly, and started tugging down Peter’s boxers until he was fully exposed. 

Peter helped Harley get his own boxers off, and finally they were both naked. Peter watched as Harley poured lube onto his fingers, his heart pounding in his chest. He did his best to relax, and keep his legs parted.

The first nudge of Harley’s fingers at his entrance had Peter hissing, and squeezing his eyes shut. “Baby,” Harley crooned as he pressed his first finger in. “You gotta relax for me, baby.” 

“I know,” Peter whined, “I’m trying.” 

Harley studied him, for just a second. “I’m gonna kiss you. Just focus on kissing me, okay?” He requested gently, and that was easy. Peter could do that. 

When Harley kissed him, Peter opened his mouth, and used all of his effort to zero in on the feeling of Harley’s tongue in his mouth, licking inside as they slotted together. He got so caught up in the kiss that he barely registered Harley’s second finger slipping in. Peter had fingered himself experimentally before. But he had never gotten to the point where it felt good. It had always just felt awkward and vaguely wrong.

Suddenly, Harley was crooking his fingers, and Peter’s hips jerked on their own volition. Peter’s mouth fell open further into the kiss, and he moaned. Harley crooked his fingers again in the same way, and it had Peter’s head falling back onto the pillow. “Harley-” He panted.

Harley’s grin was downright predatory. “I think we found your prostate, honey.” 

The burn and stretch of Harley’s fingers barely registered as he continued to rub over that spot deep inside of Peter. Peter had never felt it before, but it had him wanting to grind his hips down onto him to get more. “Feels good,” Peter said. He tensed up when Harley added a third finger, but Harley just leaned down and kissed him through it again until Peter felt like he could melt right into the bed. 

“You ready for me to fuck you, now?” Harley asked, kissing a line down Peter’s stomach.

“Been ready,” Peter slurred, arching up. 

Harley chuckled, and Peter shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against his thigh. “You just want me inside you, don’t you, darlin’?”

“Mmmm, yeah,” Peter said, wanting it. His dick was hard, and he could feel it leaking against his stomach, but he didn’t want Harley to touch him there. He wanted to feel him deep inside of him, filling him up. He wanted Harley to stretch him around his cock, hold him down, and fuck him until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Harley kissed his cheek. “Always so sweet for me.” Peter watched him through lidded eyes as he poured lube over his cock, getting it all slick and shiny. 

“You’re so hot,” he blurted out, then ducked his head. 

“You’re hot too, babydoll.” Harley reassured as he lined himself up. “I’m gonna go slow, okay?” 

Peter nodded, and let Harley manhandle him until he was in the right position, with his legs spread. As soon as Harley started sinking inside of him Peter wrapped his arms around his shoulder and hid his face into his neck. Peter whined, gasping. 

“You hurtin’?” Harley asked, stilling his hips. He was about halfway inside of Peter. Peter wasn’t sure how he was going to fit because he already felt so full.

“Doesn’t hurt,” Peter told him, even though he was gritting his teeth. It didn’t, not really. “Just a lot. I feel full.” Peter managed to get out.

Harley kissed the side of his head. “You’re doing so good for me.” 

Peter took in a few shuddering breaths before he tried to bare down on Harley’s cock. “Keep going-” he said, voice shaky. “Go all the way in.” 

Harley hesitated, but only for a second, and then he listened. He inched further inside, going slow. It seemed to drag on forever until finally he was buried to the hilt. “Don’t move, don’t move,” Peter gasped as he grabbed onto Harley’s hair. 

From where Peter’s face pressed into Harley’s neck, he could feel him swallow. “Fuck you’re so tight. God, baby.” 

“Okay,” Peter said, giving him permission once he felt like he could take it. “You can move now.” 

The first thrust of Harley inside of him had Peter jolting, his whole body moving with the force of it. The next couple thrusts had Peter tilting his head back, so he stared at the ceiling, while Harley set a steady pace. “I like you inside of me,” Peter whispered into the skin of Harley’s neck, making him groan.

He started thrusting faster, and harder. One thrust was hard enough that Peter’s headboard slammed against the wall. They both stilled. For just a second, the only thing that could be heard in the room was their labored breath. Then, Harley hauled Peter down the bed quickly, so he wasn’t close to the headboard anymore. In doing so, he slammed Peter down onto his cock deeper than he had been. Peter saw stars and moaned loudly, unable to help himself. Harley put a hand over his mouth, but he didn’t stop. 

“You gotta be quiet,” He said, his voice low and choppy. “We can’t wake up Mom and Dad.” Peter’s eyes rolled back as Harley grabbed onto his hips and started pulling him down onto his cock, over and over again. He was nailing his prostate with nearly every thrust now, and Peter could feel himself drooling all over Harley’s hand. He brought it into his mouth and suckled on his fingers. 

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” Harley taunted, his voice nearly a growl. “I bet you wouldn’t even want me to stop if they walked in. You’re too busy taking it.” 

Peter moaned around his mouthful of Harley’s fingers, and tried to move his hips to get Harley to go faster. Harley buried his face into Peter’s shoulder, and bit down. Peter titled his head to the side, to give him more access. He already had a purpling mark blooming on his shoulder from where Harley had hit him this morning. Now, he was sinking his teeth into a spot right next to it. Once Peter was marked Harley muttered into his neck. “You feel so good. You’re all tight, and wet.” Peter could feel Harley’s cock twitching inside of him, and how it stretched him, filling him to the brim. “I’m not gonna last, baby.” Peter’s shoulder _throbbed_. 

Peter tried to speak around Harley’s hands, but it was difficult, and it mostly came out inaudible. Harley got the message and took out his fingers, just long enough for Peter to plead desperately, “Want you to come inside me. Please, please, Harley. Wanna feel it. Want it.” 

“Fuck,” Harley swore, like it had been torn out of him. “I wanna wreck you.” 

Peter only nodded frantically, and scratched his fingers up Harley’s back, holding on and scrambling for purchase. Harley sped up then, pounding into Peter hard and fast. He seemed to be taking his declaration of wrecking Peter seriously. Peter’s shoulder pounded to the same rhythm as his heart where Harley had bit down, but it only added to the buzz flooding through his veins. He was right on the edge, and Harley hadn’t even touched his cock.

As soon as he felt Harley’s cum spurt inside of him, Peter keened, and found himself tipping over. It was like he was falling, but Harley’s arms around him kept him grounded. Harley’s cum made him slicker, and wetter inside, and his stomach was covered in his own cum. Peter came back to Earth to Harley pressing kisses all over his face. He kissed by his hair, his ear, his forehead, his cheeks, he kissed him until Peter was swatting him away, giggling, half delirious. 

“You did so good,” Harley told him, still inside of him. “So perfect, baby.”

“Mmmm, Harley,” Peter hummed, then wrinkled his nose, processing how sweaty and gross they both were. He didn’t want to leave, though, and he didn’t want Harley to break their embrace, even for a second. 

“I’m gonna pull out now, alright?” Harley soothed, his words gentle. 

Peter braced himself for it, and then Harley was pulling out with a wet squelching noise that had Peter’s ears turning red. He felt so empty now, with Harley gone. 

Harley leaned back, and Peter didn’t know what for, but he couldn’t have that. He latched onto Harley like a spider-monkey, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “Don’t go,” he said, sounding pitiful to his own ears. 

“Hey,” Harley said. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.” 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

Harley held onto him. “I’m not leaving. But we need to wipe you down, okay, baby? You’ll regret all this mess in the morning, I promise.” 

Peter just shook his head, and clung on. “Don’t care.” 

“I’m just going to the bathroom to get a washcloth, and then I’ll be back. I’ll only be gone for a minute.” Harley told him gently. 

Peter held onto him for a couple more seconds until he relaxed, and reluctantly let Harley get up from the bed. Peter closed his eyes as Harley left the room. He didn’t know why he felt so vulnerable, and cracked open, but he knew he was being unreasonable. 

True to his word though, he was only gone for a minute. He came back with a wet washcloth, and was quick to peck Peter on the lips before he started wiping him down. He kissed over Peter’s thighs, and kissed both of his knees, before he deemed Peter clean enough and tossed the washcloth off to the side. “We should probably move to my room, though,” He said, gesturing to the spoiled sheets. 

“Can you carry me?” Peter asked, his voice small. He wasn’t sure if his wobbly legs could carry him at the moment. 

“Yeah,” Harley said. “I got you.” 

He lifted Peter’s limp body, holding onto his thighs until Peter got his legs around him, and his arms braced in a loop behind Harley’s neck. Harley stood up with a grunt, but managed to get Peter’s bedroom door open and shut quietly, while Peter was mostly useless against him. He shuffled them down the hallway with careful steps until they got outside his room. 

Once they got through the second door obstacle, Harley dropped Peter down onto his bed with a ‘humph’. Peter didn’t let him go, and tugged him down on top of him. Harley fell onto him, just barely dodging a hit to him with his elbows. 

Harley laughed, then bundled up close. He pulled the covers up so it fully encased them. In Harley’s bed, with Harley’s hands around him, Peter finally felt at peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this please, please, leave a comment or kudos, they really do make my day. Stay safe! - Venom
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr, twitter, or discord @venomondenim


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